


Those Things Domestic

by KiannaLeigh



Series: Those Things Domestic [1]
Category: My Candy Love
Genre: Adoption, Based on a Tumblr Post, Domestic Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Lystiel Trash, M/M, Post-High School, This was posted in parts but it's all cleaned up now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 05:50:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6107005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiannaLeigh/pseuds/KiannaLeigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After high school Lysander and Castiel settle into adult life and find themselves passing thresholds together without really noticing it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Things Domestic

Lysander leaned back in his chair and let out a long, drawn out sigh. He’d been working since six in the morning. Sure he’d stopped briefly around noon to get something to eat and do some laundry, but he hadn’t eaten breakfast, had eaten a small lunch and had been hunched over, staring at his laptop screen for hours. His body was stiff and his neck hurt. He needed to get a desktop with a monitor at eye level or he was going to be crippled soon. 

Sitting up straight, the grey haired man rolled his shoulders and put his hands on the keyboard. He was working for a client. After high school at Sweet Amoris, Lysander had toyed with the idea of going to music school. He’d decided to focus on his general education credits first and played in a band with Castiel and some others. But after a while and a moderate amount of success in the band, Lysander started writing things other than songs. 

At first it was poetry. He wrote long pieces of dramatic poetry to compliment some of his songs. Then it was short stories expanding on the worlds he created in his poems. It became something of a passion. He spent less and less time writing songs for the band and more and more time working a book of poems and short stories for publication. 

But that was okay, everyone in the band was starting to drift. Two of them got invited to play in some up-and-coming band. Another was only playing music as he worked on his architecture degree. The other two had their own careers to think about. They split up the band after a summer of touring, opening for a bigger act, and went their separate ways.

 Lysander switched majors from music studies to creative writing. He earned his bachelor’s, published his book of poems and short stories and became a freelance writer. Now, years later with a Master’s in Fine Arts for creative writing and two more books under his belt, he was living in a small but comfortable apartment in Paris, writing for clients and working on this fourth book, a novel set in the world of one of his short stories. He liked his work. Even though sometimes he missed singing and the rush he felt when he was on stage, he wouldn’t change his life if he was given the chance. 

Rereading the last few paragraphs he’d written, Lysander planned on getting back to work. But before he could type a single letter a voice called out. 

“Lys!” 

Lysander jumped a little and looked at the time in the corner of his laptop for the first time in a while. “Six o’clock already?” he muttered, then heard his name again. 

“Lys!?” 

“I’m in here!” he called as he saved his work and put his laptop to sleep. 

As he turned around in his chair Castiel appeared in the doorway. The man was frowning but Lysander smiled. Castiel looked so much different than when they were in high school, so much different than when they started college. 

When the band had split up the record company had offered two of them places in their new band, Castiel had been their first choice. Actually Lysander and Castiel had been their first choices. But at that point Lysander had wanted to write books, not go on tours, and had turned them down. He had thought Castiel would take the offer, but for reasons Castiel had never spoken of and Lysander later came to guess he understood, Castiel turned them down as well. While Lysander pursued a degree and career in writing, Castiel majored in music and music business. He got his Master of Music around the same time Lysander got his MFA in creative writing. While Lysander wrote, Castiel got a job as a composer and songwriter for the same big music company that he’d turned down years before and they moved in together to save on rent.

 After Castiel turned down the chance to be a rock star, he’d changed his style again. He wore button down shirts with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and plain dark jeans with sneakers. Most noticeable of all, he dyed his hair back to black and started wearing glasses. He’d worn contacts the entire time Lysander knew him. So much so that Lysander had forgotten he wore them. When one day he showed up at Castiel’s dorm room and the man had answered his knock with black hair and glasses Lysander had thought for a moment that he had gone to the wrong room. 

Lysander was used to Castiel’s new style, but somehow when he saw him at certain times, something bloomed in his chest and he couldn’t help but smile. Of course, Castiel was still Castiel and certain things about his style would never change. While it could be argued he dressed more conservatively now than before, under his plain button down shirts was a web of elegant, interlocking tattoos that started at his collarbone, ran down his chest, over his shoulder blades and back, around his sides, down to his tail bone in the back and pelvis in the front, and down both arms until just where his shirt sleeves were rolled up to. 

“You’re not ready yet?” Castiel snapped, arms crossed against his chest, the edges of his tattoo peeking out from under his rolled up shirt sleeves. 

Lysander continued to smile, unperturbed by Castiel’s annoyance. “I lost track of time. We’ll get ready together.”

 “You’re not going to work anymore, are you?” 

“No. I already put my laptop to sleep. Come on.” Lysander got up and walked to the door. As he met Castiel at the threshold he smiled at him and slipped past him. 

They both walked down the hallway into the second, larger bedroom and Lysander began to unbutton his pajama shirt. 

Unless Lysander had to go out he usually spent the day in his comfortable silk pajamas. He and Castiel went to the gym when Castiel got out of work. They showered at the gym, then Lysander showered again at home before putting on some pajamas. Castiel didn’t shower again since he showered in the morning before going to work so he stripped down to his boxers and a threw on a tank top while waiting for Lysander to get ready. Then they made dinner together, ate, talked and watched TV, then went to bed. 

Castiel liked Lysander to be ready for the gym when he got home, because if he wasn’t that meant he was still working and Castiel would have to urge Lysander along to stop working so they could go. However that night, Lysander was ready rather quickly. 

“What do you want for dinner?” Castiel asked, as Lysander slipped on some jeans. He had his workout clothes in a bag, fresh from the laundry that he had done that day. He’d wear jeans and a t-shirt to and from the gym. Thank god his brother and his brother’s wife never saw him like that. Leigh would never forgive him for going out dressed so commonly, never mind what Rosalya would say. 

“We could eat out for dinner, if you want.” 

“Fine with me, but someplace nice. We can make reservations in the car.” 

Lysander frowned. “You want to go someplace we need reservations? What’s gotten into you?” 

Castiel sighed in frustration. “I went out for lunch today.” 

“You went out for lunch?” Lysander repeated indignantly. “I packed you a lunch!” 

“I know! I had it later. Not the point. Clara wanted to go out for lunch.” 

“Who?” 

“Clara. The new singer I’m working with. Tall, blonde, irritatingly like Amber.” 

“Her name is Clara?! You always referred to her as Little Miss Amber. I thought her name was Amber!” 

“No, it’s Clara. Anyway, Clara wanted to go out for lunch. The boss made me take her for some bonding time. I think he knows I hate her. She picked the place and the company paid.” 

“What does this have to do with our plans for dinner?” Lysander asked and this time it was his turn to cross his arms over his chest. 

“We went to his awful place. I mean, the food was good. Well, it was decent. Not as good at the smoked turkey and rosemary mayo sandwich you packed me, but that’s not the point. The point is, we sat in a booth across from this couple. They argued the whole time and worse than that they had three kids. They must have been … I don’t know, five, six and seven; siblings that look like the bar symbol on a cell phone when they’re all lined up, you know? One right after the other. And they were loud. I don’t mean talking loud to get their parents’ attention, I mean, screaming their heads off, running around, crawling under tables, tripping up the wait staff, horrible, rotten monsters! Clara thought it was cutest thing ever. I got a migraine. I mean, would it be too much to ask for parents to have at least a little control over their spawns?” 

Lysander, who’d started chuckling halfway through Castiel’s rant, shook his head. “I’m sorry your lunch went badly.” 

“Me too!” Castiel shouted. “Parents should make sure their children are well-behaved in public places. We agreed that’s how we’d raise our kids.” 

Bending over a little, Lysander let out a louder laugh. “Our kids? Castiel, we’re not married.” 

The raven haired man raised his eyebrows a little. “Lysander,” he said seriously, “we’re a little married.” 

As his laughter died away and he straightened up, Lysander thought. 

They did share their lives. But friends did that, didn’t they? 

And they did share one bedroom and used the other as a joint office. But the second bedroom was big enough for both of them and they both needed an office space for work. That was just practical. 

Besides, they had separate beds. But they often watched TV or read on one or the other’s bed and fell asleep together. 

Plus, they each dated and not one another! But if they were drunk - or really bored - they sometimes made out. 

But they hadn’t had sex. Except that one time in college when Castiel was too anxious to have sex with his first boyfriend until he had done it with Lysander. Okay it was couple of times, but in their defense, Castiel hadn’t wanted to do it with his boyfriend until he was comfortable with a man being sexual with him. Lysander was just helping him out. He was being a good friend! 

Lysander sighed. “Yea,” he admitted. “I know.” 

Castiel narrowed his eyes and gave him a look. 

The grey haired man smiled. “And I love it,” he added sweetly. 

“Good,” Castiel muttered. “Get the gym bags. You’re driving and I’m finding a decent place for us to eat.” 

“Make sure you make the reservation with enough time for us to get back here and get changed.” 

“I know! Now come on. The faster we hit the gym, the faster we get to dinner.” 

Shaking his head, Lysander picked up their bags and followed Castiel out of the bedroom. 

~~~~ 

Their workout was fairly routine. The only thing that stood about it was their time in the ring. 

As part of their workout Lysander and Castiel signed up for a mixed martial arts group where they spared. Usually they matched one another blow for blow. That night, however, Castiel was merciless and, never one to go overboard if he didn’t have to, Lysander had been forced to go into defense mode and simply keep Castiel from hurting him badly enough for him to be kicked out of the class. 

After the class, Castiel was sullenly silent in the showers, in the car, and all the way to restaurant. It wasn’t until they had ordered and were picking at their dinners that Lysander found the silence unbearable. 

“Cas?” he called across the tiny circular table. 

Castiel glanced up from his salmon and stared at him over the flickering of the candle that served as a centerpiece for the table. “Mmm?” he responded. 

Lysander struggled to keep his face impassive. Though to be honest, for him it wasn’t that much a struggle. “You’ve been acting strangely,” he said. “I wonder if something isn’t wrong.” 

Shrugging, the raven-haired man took another bite of his food. 

That wasn’t like Castiel. If something was bothering him, even if he didn’t want to talk about it, he at least said something, some snide or biting remark meant to deter further questions. Lysander stared at him a moment, filling up the space with a long, slow sip of his wine, as he considered his options. When he was done thinking he decided to would be more helpful to wait him out than to pry. He put down his glass and went back to his steak. His patience was paid off a few bites later. 

“I was thinking about us moving back to Hossegor,” Castiel muttered. He didn’t lift his eyes from his plate. Instead he methodically parted his salmon with his fork, gathered some vegetables and swirled it around in the sauce. 

Lysander stared at him. “You want to move back? Why?” 

“I was just think we could. We make enough. Your work is all online.” 

“Yours is not,” Lysander reminded him gently.

“It could be. Video chat is a thing. I’ve already asked about it.” 

Putting down his knife and fork, Lysander looked at him seriously. “You’ve asked already? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Look, I was just asking!” Castiel hissed angrily. “It was just a thought!” 

“There’s no need to be like that,” Lysander said in his most soothing voice. It had the desired effect. 

Castiel glanced up from his food at last. “We could go back,” he insisted softly. “It might be nice.” 

They watched each other from opposite sides of the table. After a few seconds, Lysander spoke. “Leigh and Rosalya would like that,” he said. “And then there’s Lysa. She’d be thrilled. We could take her overnight on weekends if we wanted. Or maybe …” 

“Maybe what?” Castiel asked. His tone had a little edge to it that Lysander ignored. 

“I think if we did take Lysa it would be nice if she had a companion of sorts. A dog or something more appropriate.” 

“We have a dog,” Castiel responded flatly. “Do you want another? A puppy for Lysa or something? And what does “more appropriate” mean?” 

“I’m thinking,” Lysander answered. “We should both think seriously before making any life altering plans.” 

“Yea well, that answer suits you, doesn’t it?” Castiel smirked and shook his head. 

Lysander only smiled. “It does.” 

~~~~ 

Castiel blew out smoke as he gazed out over the bay. It was nice to be home in sunny Soorts-Hossegor. Paris had been nice for a while, but in the end they decided to move back home. There were a lot of reasons. 

For one thing, there was Lysa, Rosalya and Leigh’s daughter. Her real name was Lysandra, of all things. Lysander had been the one to deliver her. In a strange twist of fate, Leigh had gotten stuck in traffic on his way to the hospital. Castiel and Lysander, who’d come down for the birth, had been the only ones there. Castiel had been frantically calling Leigh, trying to figure out what happened to him, while Lysander stayed with Rosalya. Leigh hadn’t made it in time so Lysander had been with Rosalya as her daughter and his niece came into the world. 

Little Lysa was a cutie, almost two now, and full of smiling, babbling trouble. Castiel loved her to death. Neither he nor Lysander had liked having an over seven-hour drive between them and Lysa and her parents. 

For another thing, honestly they missed home. Nathaniel emailed once a week to check on them. Castiel wasn’t sure how he and that idiot blonde had bridged the gap between them but they had. Castiel even thought he was nice though he’d never tell him that to his face. Candy and Rosalya had insisted that they come down the year before for Kentin and Alexy’s wedding. The blue haired gay-boy had finally worn old four-eyes down and that amused Castiel to no ends. 

Well, not that Castiel could talk. 

He and Lysander filled out the paperwork for marriage on the fly when they moved down from Paris. They had made their housewarming party double as a wedding with the minister just sort of showing up in the middle and marrying them suddenly. Because of that their wedding had had more spontaneous romantic passion than Kentin and Alexy’s. The collective gasp when they actually kissed to seal the marriage had amused Castiel to no ends. 

Their guests had spent most of the remainder of the party inquiring about when, exactly, they entered into a romantic relationship let alone decided on marriage. They had artfully evaded the question. Well Lysander had artfully evaded it. Castiel had put it off with some choice words that everyone was glad Lysa was out on the balcony for. 

Plus, since Kentin had gotten laser eye surgery and Castiel had switched back to glasses, now he was the four-eyes, not military-boy. 

Sucking in another lungful of smoke, Castiel let the poison tumble around inside him. This was going to kill him, as Lysander so often told him, but gods did it feel good. He was pretty sure nothing short of a miracle or dire medical need would make him stop. 

He blew smoke out into the evening air and watched it twist in the breeze as the sun slipped down under the water. Paris had been beautiful, he admitted, especially in summer, but gods Castiel had missed the warm sand and cool water of Hossegor. He honestly wasn’t sure why he’d been in such a hurry to leave all his life. 

He was just about to take another drag when he heard Lysander shouting from inside the apartment. 

“Castiel!” 

Castiel looked at his watch. It was late, the sun was going down and everything, but Lysander was supposed to be watching Lysa that night while Leigh and Rosalya went to some event that Castiel hadn’t bothered to remember the name of. He shook his hair, thinking he really need to either start wearing it in a little ponytail or get a haircut, and grabbed his drink with his free hand. 

“Castiel!” Lysander shouted again, more frantic this time. 

It didn’t happen often, but a little bubble of panic rose in Castiel’s chest. He walked quickly from the bedroom, where one of their balconies were, down the hall and into the living room where Lysander stood clutching a piece of paper in his hand. His face was down, his features obscured by his grey forelocks. 

“Lysander?” Castiel called as he set his drink down on the table. He still had his lit cigarette between the fingers of his right hand. “Lys? What’s all the screaming about? And where Lysa? Lysander!” 

“She’s with Leigh and Rosa!” Lysander snapped. Castiel was taken aback. Lysander never snapped. “Rosalya got sick, they came home, and I came home.” He was still staring down at the piece of paper in his hands. 

Looking at the paper Castiel could see it was a letter. It was all typed and official with a letterhead he couldn’t quite make out because of the angle he was at. The envelope was in Lysander’s right hand. 

“Lysander? What is it?” 

Lysander looked up and for the first time and Castiel could see his face clearly. He was crying and looked to be in shock. “Oh my god,” he whispered shakily. 

“… what …?” Castiel said and cautiously approached. “What is it?” 

“It’s from the agency.” 

“The … adoption agency?” Castiel breathed. One of the reasons they gotten married was that they wanted to start a family. That was something they hadn’t told anyone yet. 

“Yes,” Lysander muttered with a nod of his head. He looked down and scanned the letter again, found a certain spot with his first finger and moved to let Castiel see. The sentence over his finger was: “We are pleased to inform you…”

Castiel’s eyes widened and he looked over at Lysander. His shock must have worn off. Lysander was grinning like Castiel had never seen before. 

“They approved us,” the grey haired man chuckled. “We’re going to adopt!”

Staring at his friend – no, not just friend, best friend, husband – Castiel smiled. “We’re going to adopt,” he repeated.

Lysander nodded and moved in to kiss him, Castiel turned his face away. He ignored the offended and confused look on Lysander’s face and hurried left the room. He returned in a moment with an empty glass and something liquid swishing around in his mouth. As he reached the table he spit out the liquid which turned out to be mouthwash. Lysander chuckled. “Thank you,” he said. “I hate that taste.”

“You’ll never have to taste it again,” Castiel replied. He held up his lit cigarette, half burnt down, and then plunged it into the drink he’d left the table. Then – after setting the glass with the mouthwash in it down on the table – he pulled the pack, mostly empty, out of his pants pocket and opened it. One by one he pushed each of the remaining cigarettes into the drink before setting the empty pack on the table.

Lysander stared, confusion written all over his features. “What was that?” he asked.

“A miracle,” Castiel replied and kissed the man before he could say anything else.


End file.
